An orchestra of rattling pots and pans erupted from the kitchen as Victoria scavenged for the right size. Intending to make the perfect cat treats for when Mr. Whiskers came back, like any nine-year-old left unattended in a kitchen, she created an absolute mess whisking a battery concoction. Debatably edible, it was filled with random things with no rhyme or reason other than the child's personal preference on what tasted good. Wrapped up in child-like joy, the heiress, for a moment felt relieved of the stress of the situation as she tasked away, failing to notice the woman slip right into the kitchen behind her. Despite the friendly tone, Victoria shrieked. The second two eerily familiar hands touched her back, PTSD from the last time someone got behind her triggered a fight-or-flight response.

Tossed was the multicolored batter of who knows what over the girl's shoulder. The nine-year-old snatched herself out of Ryuko's grip, falling on her butt as she turned around. Unsure if she hit the stranger or not until she got a good look at her, Victoria was puzzled with the sight of some Blasian woman bowing, sincerely apologizing. Wide-eyed, the girl had a simple question. [i]“Who are you?”[/i]

She clearly wasn't one of the green women Mr. Whiskers told her about.

Whereas the last scene might be the restart of wholesome beginnings, a scene quite the opposite resumed on the other side of the city. The latest domino was about to fall as a result of the last Orichalca ship's excursion. One about to knock over several more at once as word quickly got around.

Dozens of wobbled kneed laboring men with floating halos around their necks like dog collars profusely sweated under the rays of the Aesteria sun. The palace’s crystalline windows only amplified the light turning the room into a sauna despite having many openings. Even under harsh conditions they serenaded a lounging, eight-foot woman sipping a wine unique to these lands made of melon-sized grapes fermented in the golden sun with the soft breeze generated from waving palm leaves.

The woman perched on a shimmering throne cushioned with pillows stuffed with a bitsy portion of diced Gravlari feathers sat not just unamused, but impatiently. Even at the brink of exhaustion, a few of the men slaving away couldn't help but notice her beautiful gleaming skin likened to a flawless pear. The aura she gave off was quite different in comparison to the average Orichalca Amazon. Appearances aside, she had seraphim wings bedazzled with magical ring piercings, relics passed down from one empress to the next. In total, there were six each possessing a unique power. 

Despite being decked down in the finest materials and accessories found across the galaxy, unlike the rest of her tribe, she didn't subscribe to their brand of hubris. Solicia did not think lowly of men. Most of the time it was just an act. Often behind her stone expressions she gave to the prisoners was a small ounce of pity.

[i]“Maybe if I fan the best she'll give me a chance,”[/i] Sassayan, the once proud samurai of Fortis thought looking up at her. It was a shame. He had been broken down mentally to lusting for her as a life goal. Serving several life sentences, It was the only thing the lanky warrior could strive for as unrealistic as it was. No longer did he aspire to escape. He fanned to the point where the Queen’s enormous kinky tresses billowed in the wind. However, she failed to notice. There was only one thing on her mind.

“Queen Solica, we have terrible news! A ship of robotic pirates has waged an assault on the grand banquet hall! Injuries are piling up as they aim to neutralize the threat!” An older woman in an outfit, one part loose fitting toga and other parts skimpy top underneath barged into the throne room.

Rolling her eyes, Solica took another sip from her wine glass, taking her time as she sat it on a saucer on the back of a kneeled man as still as a table.

“I don't suppose you need my input on how to engage with a few pirates, Dolata. There are plenty of high-ranking warriors available.”

“That's the problem! Many of them were in Sha’Rema’s Chancery debating courtship rights of the promising man we acquired on our last excursion. He has outwitted all of them and fled after his violent escape!

[i]“Escape?”[/i] It was like a flip switch in Solicias's mind. [i]“What do you mean, escape?”[/i]

[i]“He's a quite capable fighter. He broke Maletesma's nose not once but twice?”[/i]

[i]“Twice?”[/i] A subtle quivering sensation stung the Queen's lower body.

[i]“Thalira is leading a unit and is engaging with him but he's already so close to the Banquet. He might be in cahoots with the pirates.”[/i]

[i]“He's out running our designated pursuit uni—AAAAUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”[/i] A breathly moan escaped her.

Everyone stood in silence, unsure what to say engaging in speed tag of eye contact across all corners of the room.

Impervious to embarrassment the Orichalca Queen inquired further.

[i]“Did you personally confront him?”[/i]

[i]“He kicked me in the gut prior to his esca—”[/i]

The woman couldn't even finish her reply before Solicia jolted out of her seat, lifting Dolata before taking a deep whiff of her draping garments. It reeked of lowly Krillians but another scent, more dominant, was there.

Solica's eyes took on a ravenous possessed look. Her enormous angelic six wings sprouted, unleashing a gale sweeping her unprepared servants off their feet. The Queen ascended to the skies, taking in the crisp, clean air of the Aesterian jungle. Above the palace the illustrious bejeweled garments on her swayed gently with the wind, flowing like golden ribbons of silk around her lithe form for all to see. She searched for the slightest hint of the fleeing man's scent with her heightened sense of smell. There was no mistaking it. There it was heading towards the banquet hall giving Thalira's tracking unit the slips.

This was particularly impressive given that once a target was in sight, the platoon's ability to launch arrows tethered to their spirit at the speed of sound rarely missed. Prey were like a fish in a pool attempting to evade multiple harpoon snipers working in tandem with until eventually being struck and reeled in by a dominating force. A glimmering laser show of golden trails left by their arrows lingered in the skies well after being fired. 

It wasn't clear if he had been caught or not. Were they to fail, Solicia wouldn't. He [b]will[/b] be hers.

Meanwhile, Merse continued his panther-esque brand of snooping, flying under the radar eyeing an oversized plate of Salmon Niçoise Salad. Rummaging through a million and one plans on how to get his greedy paws on the dish, all were thrown to the wayside the second his hyper-sensitive whiskers tingled. Before the information broker cracked his neck, an explosion near the entrance wobbled his footing. Molten metals flung around like overly wet clay in a pottery class as Metallo’s ship fired away with an intense blast of heated plasma liquefying the gold jungle gym structure cradling the structures entrance.

Multiple levels of historic architectural brilliance, permanently scarred in mere seconds by the band of pirates ramming and tearing their way into the hall greeted by hundreds of ear-splitting horrified screams at decibels agonizing to Merse's ears. The rumble could be felt as far as the quarters where Ryuko and Victoria were stationed. After the dust settled, the robotic crew stood tall in their best action movie poster poses, wielding a variety of unique firearms, traps, and gadgets. The pirates were ready to take on the role of liberators in this matriarchal dystopia and free the thousands of imprisoned men sentenced here from all across the cosmos. What would have been a hero’s welcome from thousands of prisoners rallying behind their cause failed to start only because of one very crucial miscalculation. 

This wasn’t the prison.

Too late to turn back now. A band of pirates fired away, downing several Orichalca warriors while several others deflected the beams off their golden wristbands charging forward. It's like Captain Metallo and crew struck a wasp nest the way one Amazon after the next came out in droves.  Many took to the skies, tossing tridents charged with radiant auras, many missing, creating small craters the second they struck the marble flooring. Others tossed weighted nets of ropes funneling lightning in attempts to capture members of the crew. One one young warrior named Aletheia stood back, connecting her fingers to create a triangle locked right on the captain. The amazon absorbed ambient energy in the area, as Aesteria was abundant with it, focusing the energy to a single point before unleashing a solar beam of vortexing yellow, orange and red light with the intent to knock the captain hundreds of feet back and even off the cliff.  The battlecries filling the air signaled all out war, and witness to it all was Merse, casually stuffing his face, chowing down in the background. The information broker figured he’d stick around until the pirates forced the elite warriors to enter the arena. The crew of robots made for quite a convenient distraction.